


The Haunting of Tatsumi

by Kanae



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:42:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanae/pseuds/Kanae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4 years after the events of the series, Haru and Rin move into the place of their dreams: a 2LDK apartment two blocks from Tokyo’s biggest International Swimming Center.</p><p>Problem is: They are not alone.</p><p>(Written for RinHaru Week’s ‘Supernatural’ Prompt)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Haunting of Tatsumi

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be a one-shot, but it got so long that I decided to split it in two (though I may end up splitting it into three instead, we’ll see). The data about their living arrangements and the timeline are only loosely based on reality, so my apologies for any inaccuracy!
> 
> And of course: a big thank you to extraordinary, who made me the immense favor of beta-reading this for me in record time. Thank you so much!

It happens little after Haru turns twenty-three. Or more precisely: it happens when they move into their new apartment.

It’s a slow burn. It starts small, constrained even and so, _so_ easy to ignore.

( _When you live with someone else, putting a name-tag on noises and shadows is more than just an option. It’s second-nature. To do otherwise would be unnatural, outrageous._

 _But silly them; that’s exactly what_ It _is_.)

And then it _grows_. Escalates at a speed _so_ dizzying, they are still reeling when they find themselves standing at the point of no return.

( _That much is their fault._ Theirs _. Because they should have known better—because they should have left while they still could.)_

You see, the thing is: it takes them less than a month to find that what we are told all our lives—

( _Don’t worry child, there is nothing to fear in the dark.)_

Is nothing more than a lie. An empty solace, a raided shelter.

( _And just like a corpse,_ it _reeks of decay.)_

And while both of them made it their mission to travel around the world; to know it to its roots and leave no stone left unturned—

_This?_

This is something they would have been better of not knowing.

* * *

 

“It’s one of the smallest in the building,” the landlord says, sliding open the glass doors, “But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in location. You are only a five minute walk away from the Yūrakuchō line, not to mention two blocks away from—”

“The Aquatics Center,” Haru finishes, walking past the vendor and into the now open balcony. They don’t need to be told that; the only reason they chose this area is because of the International Swimming Center, and they endured a near four-month wait to find a vacant slot to move in.

They had nearly given up hope when the realtor finally called to give them the good news; the occupants of one of the apartments at _Park Stage A_ had suddenly vacated it, so would they like to see it?

They didn’t think twice about it. It’s everything they need.

“The apartment has all the commodities you can possibly ask for. The only setback is that the lock of the entrance isn’t working properly, but you wouldn’t have to worry about it; the previous tenants will cover the expenses.”

Haru can distantly hear Rin asking something to the landlord, but he feels no need to find out what. Instead, he closes his eyes and leans on the railing, breathing in the pleasant, lavish smell of the natural park before him.

He likes it. Likes that the area is more secluded than the Tokyo he has gotten used to, and far less noisy; likes that they would be able to have their morning runs in the grass fields of the park and sit by the seaside whenever they like. It would be a welcome change from having to do their in-land training in facilities or through crowded streets, like became the norm in the apartment they are sharing.

 _We’re taking it_ , is what Haru decides before reluctantly detaching himself from the railing and marching back into the apartment.

He isn’t too surprised to find Rin pulling back the black curtain hung on one of the walls. Haru noticed it, too, the moment they stepped into the dining area; but he hadn’t thought much of it, far more interested in admiring the view beyond the balcony’s glass doors.

“So it _is_ a mirror, huh? Looks pretty fancy,” Rin marvels with an appraising grin.

“It is! It was a prized possession of the first owners of this apartment, I believe they bought it during one of their travels. It’s a very valuable antique, though I’m afraid I can’t remember the type of wood it’s made of…”

“So, why didn’t they take it with them?” Rin arches a brow, gives a rather pointed pull at the curtain, “And why is it covered, anyway? Shouldn’t it be on display?”

His impish question steals a chuckle from the landlord. But it sounds forced; rehearsed. “Oh believe me, it’s nothing worth knowing about.”

In the mirror’s reflection, Haru’s and Rin’s gazes lock.

“Oh, yeah?” Rin turns back towards the chubby man, a playful smirk on his face. “Try us.”

The landlord seems to hesitate several moments before indulging them. “Well, you see; there is an ancient tradition that says you should cover a mirror if someone dies in a room. Otherwise, their soul may get trapped into the mirror and they won’t be able to ascend into heaven,” he explains, the tightness around his mouth betraying the pleasant tune of his voice. “Just old superstitions.”

Rin snorts. “What, so you’re telling me somebody died in this room?”

The landlord’s smile falters.

There is a pregnant pause during which Haru blinks, eyebrows going up in spite of himself. His bewildered countenance a more dignified version of Rin’s own, who drops the curtain and begins to gape like a fish out of water.

It takes him a few tries, but at the end he manages to muster a flat “You’re kidding, right?”

The landlord has the decency to look apologetic. “ _Actually_...”

* * *

 

“You’ve _got_ to be shitting me,” Rin mutters, giving a dark browed stare at his plate.

After so many years together, Haru has become adept at telling when it’s about the mackerel and when Rin’s mind is brooding about something else. But he doubts anyone would need to be a Rin expert to know just what is weighting on him now.

“Well, there had to be a reason why he didn’t ask for any key money.”

“Reason my ass,” Rin grunts. He lifts his gaze to regard him with a blank, if rather accusing stare, “You’re awfully calm about this.”

Haru shrugs. “I don’t believe in ghosts. Do you?”

“Of course not! _Jeez_ ,” Rin’s predictability makes a smile prickle at Haru’s lips, and he has to disguise it with taking another bite of his dish. “Still, you gotta admit it’s kinda creepy to know somebody died at your freaking house,” Rin adds after a moment, now more thoughtful than moody.

“Not really,” the comment earns him an incredulous look, so Haru complies. “When you think about it, we’ve probably walked through roads where people have died, too. And it’s not like they’re buried in the apartment.”

“…I don’t know if you’re being wise, or just a weirdo.”

Haru scoffs a bit. “Shut up. Eat, your food is getting cold.”

His advice is soundly ignored.

“So what, we’re taking it?”

“It’s everything we need,” Haru offers, having already made his choice while Rin was busy digesting the place’s unexpected background. “And it’s affordable.”

Rin studies Haru’s face, pondering in silence for a few moments.

“It’s also got a spare room for when Makoto and the others want to visit,” he mumbles at last, and Haru nods with a faint smile, just bordering on encouraging.

When Rin closes his eyes with a dramatic sigh, Haru knows what he is about to say. So he lets his smile widen, allows the gleam to seep into his eyes.

“Alright,” Rin announces, lips spreading into a sharp-toothed grin. “Let’s move in.”

* * *

 

It’s less of a hassle than they thought it would be and in less than a week, there are barely any boxes left to unpack.

Rin jokes about it, says that maybe they should get more clothes. Haru retorts that at the rhythm he is going, Rin will need to take over the guest-room just to keep all his stuff. Rin takes revenge by ambushing and tickling him, and soon enough (despite Haru’s best efforts) he’s got the place filled with their laughter.

Just like that, their new apartment becomes _home_. The complacency chases away any unwanted knowledge, to the point Rin even decides against putting the mirror away, as he originally intended to do.

_It’s pretty neat, isn’t it? We may as well keep it!_

Haru agrees and that’s that. The mirror keeps its usual spot on the dining area. One afternoon, Haru even takes the time to polish it until the golden bull-rushes and palm fronds regain some of their old shine. The end-result looks less than the witness of two unfortunate deaths, and more like something worth displaying alongside their medals.

Everything just seems to fall into place.

( _And that’s why neither sees It coming_.)

* * *

It’s humid outside. Not enough to make Haru ditch his usual windbreaker when he and Rin go on their evening jog, but enough to make him consider depraving his muscles of the warm bath they wind up clamoring for.

At the end, he settles for turning on the air conditioner and dropping its temperature a notch.

It’s the right choice to make, if the contented sigh that escapes his lips when he lowers himself into the tub is anything to go by. For some reason, tonight’s road training felt particularly taxing. Not that Haru will ever admit _that_ aloud; Rin would blame it on his _still_ heavily-mackerel oriented diet, and it’s taken Haru _years_ to get Rin to cut him some slack about that.

 _Speak of the devil_ …

The door to the bathroom slides open softly. _So_ softly, so faintly Haru would have missed it were he submerged any deeper than he is now. The thought of Rin trying to be sneaky makes Haru chuckle with amusement, bubbles breaking the tranquil surface of the water.

He keeps himself very still, strains his ears to not miss any of Rin’s movements on the changing area; the quiet raking of feet across the floor, the light shuffling of his clothes.

Haru leans his head against the wall, feels his cock twitch as he imagines Rin slowly taking-off his track pants and sweat-shirt just beyond that thin door, the muscles of his strong arms tensed with effort as he tries not to make a sound. Haru’s hand wraps feather-light around his groin, his legs spreading a bit further with anticipation for what is sure to come.

For the moment Rin would walk through that door, eyes half-lidded and cheeks flushed with lust, and would make himself room between Haru’s legs—his wet, hot tongue brushing his nipple and licking its way up _to_ —

“ _Rin_ ,” Haru rasps, and is a little ashamed to realize how out of breath he already sounds. He digs his nails into his thigh, applying just the enough pressure to keep his voice even and unimpressed when he says, “Rin, I can hear you just fine. Are you coming in or not?”

His half-question, half-demand is met with absolute silence. Haru frowns, straightens just enough to notice the shadow of Rin’s feet through the gap under the door.

“Rin?”

_Silence._

Haru’s frown turns into a scowl and he scoffs. “Fine. Suit yourself.”

But try as he may, Haru can’t look away from the door, and neither can he relax; his boner is just about gone, but the pent-up tension keeps his body high-strung like a wire about to snap.

_What does he think he is doing?_

Feeling increasingly vexed, it’s not long before Haru is loudly exhaling through his nose and hosting himself up, unwilling to prolong the inevitable. One way or another, no matter how hard he may try to resist: Haru _always_ ends up playing right into Rin’s silly games.

He doesn’t know whether he should feel grateful for the fact that the redhead always made it worth it, or resent him for it.

Haru doesn’t bother to reach for a towel when he steps out of the tub, never one to waste time with false modesties. A small puddle of water gathers at his feet as he yanks the door open, expression deliberately dry and dead-pan.

But rather than coming face to face with a mischievous Rin, he is met with… _nothing_.

Nothing but empty space.

There is no one there. No one but him and his own, startled reflection staring back at him from the fogged-up mirror.

His annoyance evaporates into the humid air. Just like Rin seems to have done.

_…What is he playing at this time?_

He does grab a towel before making his way to the dining room, steps slow and wary and awfully loud in the dead silence. One quick look around lets him know that Rin is not there; and neither is he in the small kitchen, the only place he could have escaped to fast enough for Haru not to notice.

He turns the lights of the kitchen off, submerging the apartment back into a darkness only interrupted by the street lights peeking in through the balcony. He waits a beat, but the apartment remains quiet; the only sound the occasional dripping of his hair onto the floor.

It’s not until his eyes have adjusted to the darkness that Haru heads towards their shared bedroom, an odd, uncomfortable sensation prickling the tips of his fingers.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

A floorboard creaks as he steps on it and Haru pauses again. Quiet, alert, waiting for something he is not entirely sure of himself.

But that something doesn’t come. There is just the silence and the dripping and the throbbing of his pulse and no signs of Rin and the unease deepens, grows teeth; scavenges Haru’s stomach as if it were trying to find something to feed of.

Haru refuses to give it any scraps, makes himself move.

_Drip. Drip._

What he finds on the bedroom makes him freeze, his stomach drop.

Rin is on the bed. Curled in on himself with his back towards the door, sheets a mess around his waist.

Sleeping like a baby.

Haru knows it the moment he lays eyes on him. They have been sharing a bed every day for the last two years; sleeping together for much longer than that. Rin wouldn’t be able to trick him if he wanted to. Haru knows him too well for that, has the patterns of his breathing memorized; engraved into the part of his being that seems to be filled with nothing but Rin.

A current of cold air brushes his naked spine, turns his skin into gooseflesh—and suddenly a part of Haru wishes he had stayed in the bathtub. Wishes he had taken the time to put some clothes on, made enough noise to wake Rin up.

But it’s too late for any of that and Haru can only stand there, rooted to the doorway. Back ramrod straight. Eyes wide and sharp and disbelieving.

Then Rin stirs, and Haru realizes he has been holding his breath.

* * *

 

( _He doesn’t think of death and mirrors, then._

_But he will, soon.)_

**Author's Note:**

> /sweats/ I had about four ideas but I wouldn’t have been able to finish any of those in time, so I went for this instead. Except I wasn’t sure what this would turn out to be until I was done writing it. 
> 
> Figures I would make my first rinharu fic a poor attempt at exploring some of the classical horror/suspense/what-have-you tropes. 
> 
> If you read this far, thank you so much! I hope it wasn't a waste of your time. The second part should be up some time next week~!


End file.
